Hearts That Survive (34 page)

Life as a Boat

a tiny white speck
adrift in the sea
I loosened the knot
and set myself free
one little vessel
no rudders, no oars
so without care
with no confinement of shores

I thought what I thought
and did what I pleased
or so it would seem
to the boat that was me
the clouds and the sky
and the birds and the breeze
all beguiling and tempting
my new liberty

singing soft songs
and spinning great tales
of exotic new cultures
and swimming with whales
I rocked and I listened
and I soaked it all in
skimming the ocean
with a proud little grin

life was so new,
so adventurous, so splendid
but on the horizon
was a scare that could end it
an inky gray spilled
into my sky of lush blue
and the wind and the waves
were confirming bad news

the blue now all gone
and the clouds began crying
the waves, once so gentle
now quarrelsome and fighting
and me just a boat
who had longed to be free
now caught in the fray
of a battle at sea

the wind that once whispered
now came in great puffs
whipping across me
and roughing me up
and the sea that once rocked me
now leapt in my hull
making me heavy,

uncertain and full

and now I could see
the glory of shores
the need for my rudder
and the need of my oars
what once held me captive
and held me in place
was not done in spite
but to keep me all safe

the fates it seemed
had a lesson for me
a headstrong little boat
who had set himself free
I need ropes, and shores
to hold me in place
I need anchors and piers
and a good dose of grace

and wants with no thought
that consume me each day
can make me unhappy
and make me their slave
so seek anchors and make peace
in that place that you float
and that is the story
of my life as a boat

Her son. The poet.

As if reading her mind, he said, "I'm not a poet. But I wanted to speak to my dad in a language he could understand. I've had a few classes in poetry and I know the one he wrote has form, but I don't understand much about it. Mine is, I suppose," he shrugged, "free verse maybe."

"It's the meaning that counts."

"Mom," he said softly.

She looked at him then. His eyes were kind. "You've bared your soul to me. I know it was hard. I don't share my deepest feelings, not even with Angel."

He gazed beyond her, as she'd seen John do when new thoughts came to him. "No one has ever said they want to meet me in the world beyond, in the other life, live with me forever. He wrote that in his dying moments. I was real to him. He loved me before I could do anything to deserve it."

His gaze met hers then. That sounded like church words. And if it was or wasn't, that was fine. He could say anything. They were friends.

"To become what he wished for me, what and who I should be, I need sails, and ropes, and anchors, and shores, and piers." He breathed deeply. She thought he could sometimes be as talkative as his mom, his friend, had been.

"Speaking of boats," he said, "I'd like to take Angel to visit with David and Joy. Will you go with us? Although I expect you'd prefer to stay with Caroline."

"But suppose Angelina goes into labor?"

"She doesn't let anything hold her back. Besides, Joy's a nurse. Hospitals are nearby. If the baby comes early, I'll say what Dad always said."

They said in unison, "We can handle it."

They laughed together. "I'd like to go. Enjoy my friends." Maybe it was time to let go of her smother love. "Get to know . . . Angel better."

A
fter talking it over, Lydia and Beau sold their holdings in the Beaumont Company. He'd rather invest in movie production and be able to survive any box office failure. However, his successes increased. Craven would have been proud of Beau's becoming known as a major filmmaker in Hollywood.

Armand was one of the attorneys who handled the negotiations, and Beau carefully reviewed them.

"Mom," he said, "a year after John Ancell's death, his company was sold by his beneficiaries, his parents." Beau looked at her. "Sold to Beaumont Company for a considerable sum. The Ancells benefited more than if they'd kept the company. Later, the company was dissolved."

She drew in a sharp breath. In the 1920s Beaumont Railroad introduced their unique train design, which was far beyond the designs of any other company, and one of the reasons Beaumont continued to thrive during the Depression.

She must have said some of those words aloud.

"I suppose you might say that both my dads contributed financially, making possible what I've been able to do."

She returned his warm smile. A mischievous glint sparked his eyes. "How would you like to visit London?"

After all these years? While the idea was taking shape, he told her of his plans. "I'm considering making a movie of Stanton-Jones's novel. I'd like to check out the setting. You'd be an invaluable source, that having been back in your day—"

"My day? I beg your pardon. I happen to be sitting right here. This is my day."

They laughed. "Your . . . younger days?"

"Mmmm." She felt the excitement. "Maybe Caroline would go. Oh. And Joanna. This would be the trip of a lifetime for her. I think she knows every word of
Once Upon
by heart."

He agreed. "And Bess," he said. "I'm still gathering information for the
Titanic
movie."

She was doubtful, like before. "You think anyone is interested now?"

"Many lessons should have been learned from that tragedy. If I film
Once Upon,
written by a
Titanic
victim, that will reawaken interest."

She was nodding and thinking about who might like to take the trip with them.

Caroline hesitated at first and so did Bess, both being uncertain about visiting the past. Armand had retired and after a bout with cancer, was declared free of the disease. His favorite pastime was fishing and Caroline's was the grandchildren, the oldest being David and Joy's daughter, Joanna, now sixteen.

Joanna read
Once Upon
when she was only twelve and insisted Beau make a movie of it. He finally considered doing it. "You know I would be invaluable to you on this trip," she reminded Beau. "I know every detail of that book."

"I wouldn't dare film a scene without your direction." Beau grinned.

Lydia had watched the close bond develop between these two through the years and thought it lovely. In her teen years Joanna had reminded Lydia of Caroline when they first met.

Willard had no interest in leaving his part of the world. Joy and David would stay behind to check on Armand.

Caroline had lost contact with Phoebe several years ago, but Beau located her. She didn't want to make the trip, but said she'd love to visit with them in Nova Scotia some day. She had lost track of her own brother a long time ago.

Several months later, Lydia thought of the saying that time flies when you're getting older.

Well, so did she. Fly, that is.

She flew to London with Beau, Angel, their daughter, Missy, and the two-month-old Simon in Beau's private plane, along with Caroline, Bess, Joanna, and members of the film crew.

Some places in London presented a war-torn scene, but for the most part the women—no longer an heiress, a lady, and a servant—toured their past as equals, thrilling Angel and Joanna with their stories, which to the young women seemed like ancient history coming excitingly alive.

The highlight for Joanna was visiting where Stanton-Jones had lived with his beloved. She cried, standing at
Once Upon's
actual country garden.

Beau filmed her, saying this would be a perfect scene for an actress he had in mind. This was a speculative trip, but Lydia had a feeling the
Once Upon
movie had become a sure thing.

At dinner Joanna couldn't contain her excitement and her descriptions of what she had experienced made it all come alive for Beau. "You know that would be one of the greatest movies ever."

"Sure," Beau replied. "But we haven't been able to locate Stanton-Jones' son, little Henry. We need him for permission, if he's alive. We can't just take someone's book and make a movie. The heirs and beneficiaries and relatives have to be considered. Otherwise we open ourselves up to lawsuits."

"But if nobody knows . . ."

His gaze reprimanded her. "We know."

She grimaced, well scolded.

"So we will not proceed with filming until we know if he's alive or dead. But we'll keep searching."

Joanna held up crossed fingers. "You have to find him. His daddy has one of the two most beautiful love stories in the world."

Lydia knew the other one was her and John's love story. The girl must have a penchant for unhappy endings. On the other hand, maybe that romanticism was about love that hadn't had time for any unhappiness to mar it, but was in the heart always as perfect and lovely. A fairy tale?

Was that why Stanton-Jones titled his book
Once Upon?

Regardless, her heart skipped a beat when in a private moment Beau said, "Mom" in a tone that caught her attention. "I plan to locate my ancestors."

She didn't think he meant the Dowds.

"I want to know his background. But I will approach his relatives as a movie producer seeking information for the
Titanic
movie."

He assured her that this was not deceptive since John would be a vital part of the movie. Besides, John Ancell was his dad. But they need not reveal that.

"Would you like to accompany me?" She would.

Later, they visited his grave: JOHN ANCELL, TITANIC VICTIM, 1887–1912.

His relatives, who were pleasant, hard-working middleclass people, were eager to give any information that would honor John. She and Beau laughed with them, hearing of his childhood. His siblings were proud of John, who had shown a special creative aptitude. He'd lived a happy life. Lydia thought he was happy now, looking down upon his lovely son. John's relatives gave legal permission for any information to be used as the movie producer saw fit.

They didn't suspect John had loved her and had loved Beau.

But she knew. And Beau knew.

H
e's started talking mushy," Joanna complained at dinnertime after Armand said the blessing and they began to eat his delicious roast.

Armand reached for her plate. "No dinner for you, young lady. Calling my blessing 'mushy.' "

"I'm talking about Michael." Grinning, she held tightly to her plate. He knew good and well who she meant.

So did Caroline. "How mushy is his mushy?"

Joanna loved these dinner talks. She could be open with her grandparents. Her parents said she could tell them anything, but she was more comfortable confiding in Caroline and Armand. They weren't just grandparents. They were confidants and friends.

She'd learned the difference from Beau. She asked him about referring to Lydia by her name sometimes. He explained it depended upon the situation. He revered his mom. Sometimes she was a friend, like people who aren't related.

She found that fascinating and asked Caroline and Armand if they could be friends like that. They liked the idea. She began to understand the difference. When she had a cold or flu she'd moan "Grandmooootheeeer," and accept Caroline's loving comfort. When Armand had cancer, she called him Grandfather and read to him. Other times they were Caroline and Armand.

"Well," she said, "Michael and I went to a movie and then to get a burger. I wanted to talk about romantic things."

"Hold it," Armand said. "What kind of romantic things?"

She batted her eyes innocently. "
English Country Garden
things."

He nodded. She rolled her eyes and continued, "Michael reads mainly inspirational books." She expected another question, but Armand kept eating. "So then he starts asking how many children I want when I get married. I told him I wanted three before and five afterward. Don't look that way—I didn't. Just wanted to know if you were listening."

"I'm listening."

She and Caroline grinned at each other.

"Then he asked what kind of house I wanted. And this is the truth, I said I like where I'm living, with Armand and Caroline."

"Oh, boy," Armand said. "How long do I have to put up with a sassy ol' woman?"

Joanna quipped, "Until she leaves you."

"Ohhh." He got up and went over to Caroline and kissed her. "I'm not talking about this one. She's my sweetheart."

On the way back to his chair he grasped Joanna's shoulder. "You're all right too."

Joanna knew that. She'd come to live with them when she started to college since they lived close to the university she wanted to attend. After her dad retired and started preaching at the Peggy Cove church, she preferred staying here.

"Joanna, if you don't care for Michael, why do you date him?" Caroline asked.

"Because he's a good Christian man, a youth director even. He's everything a girl should want. Maybe I've been overexposed to great, fantastic, sweep-you-off-your-feet kind of love stories. Some of my friends say I've seen too many movies." She sighed. "Maybe I'm destined to live a life of books and Beau's movies."

Caroline touched her hand. "There are all kinds and many degrees of love. If you marry someone, it should be your decision, not what others think is best."